


it doesn't have to make sense

by bloodandcream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aromatic Meg, Asexual Castiel, Experimental Style, F/M, Mentions of attempted suicide, Pansexual Meg, kinda poly relationship, nonsexual D/s relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:28:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3815521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream





	it doesn't have to make sense

-

He’s forty two and the soft swish of leather falls that he hears behind him still have his stomach fluttering in anticipation and his breath quickening. Hands tied above him, hung from the ceiling the rope digs in to his wrists, the pressure pulls at his arm sockets, and he balances on the balls of his feet with a sway. Blindfolded and bound, he’s left to the sensation of the flogger across his back, light at first and so gentle, harder and wrapping around his ribs with a sting, hard enough he screams. That’s his favorite part. When it breaks through everything. When it breaks through everything he is and everything he thinks he should be and his careful composure and he can’t hold back any more. He needs this. All the static in his mind fades and there’s a gentle white light that washes over him as his body relaxes. She lets him down tenderly afterward, lays next to him in her soft bed, rubs at the marks on his wrists until they fade and wraps her arms around him until he sleeps. Castiel still needs this, and he’s finally stopped questioning why.

-

She’s thirty six and it’s Friday night and she should be tussling under the sheets with a hot chick by now, or getting banged up against the wall by a hot dude, or hell she would go for someone fingering her in the club bathroom. But the music is too loud and everyone’s just getting on her nerves right now and no one really catches her attention. So she decides to just go home. He’s reading quietly on the couch with a yellow blanket draped over his shoulders and two cats in his lap. He looks up from his book when she slams the door open and dumps her purse on the chair by the door. He asks how her night was and tells her there’s a pot of tea on the counter in the kitchen. She settles on the couch and one of the cats curl up in her lap as she takes off her jewelry and piles it on the coffee table. Meg likes this, this quiet ease between them that’s not charged with any sexual intent and she’s finally stopped questioning why.

-

He’s sixteen and he’s never had sex with a girl and he’s never kissed a girl and the weirdest thing though, is that he’s never wanted to . She’s the same age as him, and they’ve been best friends since her father moved them next door to him almost ten years ago. It seems like it’s been their whole lives they’ve known each other and that they’re going to know each other for all the rest of it. She’s wild and reckless she gets him in to more trouble than he would on his own but he doesn’t mind. It makes him nervous though, when she comes to him and says that she had sex with another boy and it was all right but she didn’t really like that boy and she wants to try it with him. He doesn’t really feel like he wants to but he feels like he should want to so he says yes. It takes a while for her to coax a response out of his body but she likes him and he likes her and this is what boys and girls do. Castiel doesn’t like it, and she never asks him again.

-

She’s seventeen and when she wakes up in the hospital with sutures in her wrists and up her forearms, her father is passed out in a chair by the bed, and her best friend since forever is sitting by the window reading a book. The tips of his dark messy hair are lit up in the sunlight, but when he turns to her she sees the red rings under his eyes and he covers his mouth with his hand before he takes a tentative step to her bedside. She teases him for being a baby and crying, and he tells her don’t, don’t. She feels so empty and so tired, and the worst is that she’s so disappointed in herself that she’s woken up here. But he won’t let her say she’s sorry, he just keeps apologizing, that he didn’t see it, didn’t get help, like any of it’s his fault. Meg knows that he could never want her in the ways she thinks he should but she knows that he keeps something folded up tight inside himself for her that would make her scared to see it.

-

He’s twenty five and he still hasn’t gotten a job in the field that he studied in, but everyone told him that history wasn’t very lucrative and he knew that, but it’s what he wanted. And he’s getting better every day, still, at pursuing what he wants and putting his foot down when he doesn’t want something. So he works at a gas station and his degree is collecting dust. At least he lives with his best friend and four cats in an apartment that’s all their own. They go the farmer’s market on Saturday and he cooks dinner most nights of the week and she always likes what he makes whether it Italian, Middle Eastern, Asian, Vegan. She has a voracious appetite for trying anything and everything new - and not just food - and although he may be a bit slow on the uptake, a bit cautious in his own right, Castiel is starting to discover himself in all the new things he tries.

-

She’s twenty and they still live in the first apartment that they got together when they graduated higschool. It’s a shit hole because he can only work part time since he’s going to school. There’s only one bedroom, and they buy bunk beds to sleep in. Every now and then when she’s not out in someone else’s bed, he’ll crawl down from his top bunk and quietly ask if they can cuddle. There’s not much room on the small twin beds, but the two of them manage to curl up with their bodies plastered close and his pajamas always smell a little like lavender and he always ends up as the small spoon but she likes it. He’s finally stopped telling her that she could do more with her life. She knows she could do more than taking her clothes off and shaking her ass for money on the weekend, but see, the thing is she really doesn’t want to do more. She’s happy with who she is, she likes to party and she likes to fuck and she likes to try on people like shoes, wear them for a while, and look for a new pair. Meg doesn’t really get along well with a lot of people so she never tends to stick around too long, but she always comes home to blue eyes and the smell of lavender.

-

He’s thirty four and although he’s perfectly content in life without a sexual partner by his side, he finds that he craves more intimacy with the one person in his life that has always been there. Sometimes she asks for too much, and sometimes he knows that she doesn’t ask for the things that she needs. He’s grown very good at deciphering her moods but in all the time he’s taken to understand her he tries very hard to not have to understand himself. But for as well as he knows her, he knows that she knows him and he trusts that she’ll understand. That sometimes he just wants to hold her hand, wants to kiss her, wants to lay naked next to her under the sheets and soak up her warmth and feel her heartbeat beneath his head. He doesn’t want sex. He just wants her. Castiel doesn’t know why he’s still like this, he used to think somewhere along the way he’d meet the right person and he could be normal, but really, all this time the right person has been by his side and he doesn’t need any more than what he has.

-

She’s thirty eight she doesn’t really understand what he gets out of this. She’s never been much of a bottom though or much of a masochist either. She always thought that this kind of rough play was supposed to be about sex. At first it felt sexual to her, and she felt kind of skeevy having those sorts of thoughts for him again when they’d mostly just faded to a background hum of aesthetic appreciation. But it grows on her, and it feels natural to the sort of dynamic that they already have between him. She’s done this plenty of times with other guys, and with other girls, and it was always as foreplay. It changes with him, because of him. She loses focus on his body and on her wants, and she focuses instead on the feel of paddle in her hand, the hitch of his breath, the tight strung something between them. He’s always quiet, he’s always calm, he can have a temper sometimes but he’s usually the most stoic person she knows. Not like this. He screams and he cries and he begs for more and she doesn’t know why he likes to feel like that but he clings to her so tight when they cuddle afterward and she wants to wrap him up and protect him from everything. Meg is scared of what she feels for him because she doesn’t know what it is and it’s too big.

-

He’s thirty one and they have a nice apartment near a forest where there’s a path for jogging. She’s more of a night person, and if he wakes up early enough at five o clock he can catch her before she goes to bed and drag her out for a hike with him. Her sleep schedule is so erratic and she’s not always there, but she knows he likes these things and makes sure to be home on the weekend when it’s fall and the trees are beautiful and they can drive an hour to a park he’s never been to and have a picnic before they hike. He makes sure to know where she goes when she stays out and who she’s with and how long she’s going to be gone, just in case, because she might be reckless and she might not care about herself but he cares about her, enough to make up for it he hopes. She’s the one that knows he likes cream of broccoli soup when he’s sick, that he loves watching old Disney movies, that he sings to the cats sometimes, what kind of aftershave he uses and what he’s allergic to. Castiel wants her to be happy and fulfilled, he’s just glad that she’s not quite as self destructive as she used to be.

-

She’s fifty seven and she doesn’t really get around like she used to. There’s arthritis in her joints and more often than not she just wants to spend her free time at home where it’s quiet and there’s plants lining the window sills and he knows just how to make her coffee. So maybe her sex life has been in decline for a while, she masturbates a lot and that’s more than enough for her when she has him to curl up to at night. They don’t have separate rooms anymore and it’s taken them a long time to get there but that’s all right. The house they bought together is small and it’s old but he said that it had good bones and they spent years renovating it. There’s dirt under his nails in the spring when he gardens, and she joins him to pull weeds when her joints aren’t too bad. They only have two cats now, but it’s quiet and it’s good and Meg never thought that she would get this far.

-

He’s eight and it’s summer and his mother will let him play outside without supervision as long as he’s with his friend. She has wild long hair and big wide eyes and she’s not afraid of anything in the world. She likes to catch frogs by the river and she jumps on the big stones that go across it one by one even when he tells her it’s dangerous but she just laughs and says that’s why it’s so much fun, because you’re not supposed to. He thinks that his mother would call her a ‘bad influence’ if she knew all the things that they got up to. But really, his mother just seems happy that he doesn’t sit alone and read all the time anymore, she shoos him out the door and tells him to be back for dinner. Castiel spends all his time with the weird neighbor girl that plays rough and acts tough, and he thinks sometimes that he should protect her but then sometimes he tries jumping across the river on the rocks and although it’s scary he makes it across.

-

She’s twenty three and hasn’t really had a relationship that’s lasted longer than a few months, if you don’t count her best friend and room mate. Because they don’t have sex so they can’t really be counted to be in a relationship. She thinks that’s how it goes, although people ask if they’re together all the time. There are a few people that she sees every now and then just for sex because they know what she wants and it’s satisfying, and that doesn’t really count for a relationship either does it, if there’s nothing more than fucking between them. She gets sex on her own away from him, and he’s, well he’s her best friend and she’s not sure if she can call him more than that but he really is. She doesn’t like people getting to know her, she doesn’t like feeling vulnerable, she doesn’t like telling people her secrets, but he knows all of it and he’s seen all of it. When Meg comes home from her father’s funeral, it’s his shoulder she cries on and it still makes her cringe sometimes when he sees her like this but he gathers her up in his arms and tucks her in bed and the cats sleep on their hips through the night.

-

He’s sixty six and his health is starting to go. You would think that eating well and staying in shape throughout his whole life would have seen him through a few more decades, but there are lots of things that don’t really care how well you’ve lived or not they’re just there. His gardens are overgrown by now, but although it’s wild there’s life in the backyard and he loves nothing more than a cup of tea in the morning while the mist rolls away and the wood rocking chair next to him creaks as she drinks her coffee. Maybe they picked somewhere too up north to settle down because it seems the chill is getting in his bones and he’s just so tired any more. He doesn’t know why she’s still there next to him, romance was never really her thing but he doesn’t know what else to call what’s between them because it’s something that’s gone so soft with age and they know each other down to their tangled roots. Castiel will always be grateful to her, for her understanding and her companionship and her protection, because they were never really compatible yet they never really tried to change each other.

-

She’s seventy two and she thinks it’s pretty fucking funny. That he was always stronger than her, better than her, more resilient than her and yet he’s the one that’s left life first and left her here to the storm of her own thoughts. It’s pretty funny that she’s never really thought she’d had much of a heart to give, but she’s always known that whatever it was that she had it was his. If there’s anyone in her life that she’s loved completely and wholly - and it certainly isn’t herself - it was him. She never planned on getting old with one single person by her side, she never accounted for the raw empty ache there’d be in her life once he was gone. She never had much heart and she thought that was fine, she didn’t need it, and she gave what little she had to him and now somehow it’s enough to kill her. Cause Meg knows that people do die of heartache, they just give up, and she knows it’s going to happen to her.

-


End file.
